Obsidian
by lady-kyo
Summary: HGxSS. Sometimes your rock breaks...what do you cleave to then? Rather, whom.
1. Absit Invidia, or Let Ill Will Be Absent

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just any OCs I throw in.

**Obsidian**

**Chapter 1: Absit Invidia, or Let Ill Will Be Absent from Here**

"I'm done."

I blinked a few times to clear my head, lifting my eyes to stare up into the darkness just beyond the halo of light my booklight spared me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, reaching up to tuck some stray strands behind my ears.

"I'm done. I quit. Finished. I want to be elsewhere. Not here."

"I understand the sentence, I'm looking for the context," I said, reaching for my wand as I closed my book quietly. "With your job, with this place? With us?"

"You're so smart, haven't you figured it out yet?" he was shaking softly in his frustration, soft red hair falling into his eyes.

"What exactly am I supposed to figure out? That the last time we took a break you enjoyed it too much and don't want to be in a monogamous relationship anymore? That you're sick of being the second one promoted at the office? That you don't want to just settle down and have a clutch of pups like every other sibling? Or am I supposed to figure out why you're taking it out on me instead of just leaving like you want to?" I stood and flicked my wand wordlessly, illuminating the lamps around the room. Ron hated it when I used wordless magic. Until he learned how. Now it was just a childish reminder that yet again, he was tardy to the party, and no-one wondered what was taking him.

"How about that loving each other just isn't enough to wash over all those other things anymore, Hermione?" he tried to step back out of the light but it encompassed both of us too well.

"Well, I guess that makes you smarter than me in the end."

I'm not saying it was Ron's fault, you see. Our relationship had always been tumultuous. But Ron – he wasn't like me, or like Harry. I always planned for every outcome, good, bad or neutral; I relied on my brains to take care of everything. Harry thought and reacted, he formed one plan, took to it, and only modified it in dire need.

Ron was different. He was my rock. He came into it quickly, explosively.

But those are always the kind to break.

Six feet under was a horrid place to rest. Even worse if you had been put to rest with the very thing that killed you. Completely horrifying if you were merely forced into a coma of sorts whilst your erstwhile assassin HAD died…and was rotting in the same deplorable hole.

"Nagini, you were a rank creature in life and death has done you no more favors than it has your late master," former potions instructor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry coughed, hard, into the dried husk limp on his chest.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes against the nausea. "A side effect of a bad bezoar, no doubt. Of course it would be bad, the blasted Gryffindor twits must have stolen the last few good ones from my supplies."

Severus Snape closed his eyes and contemplated his situation. Everyone thought he was dead. And a traitor, provided Potter hadn't shared those memories.

"Bugger that. Potter in all his moral honest self of course would have shared the pertinent part of my memories. Blast him. I was better off 'dead'."

The very idea of fame and notoriety as a hero was, frankly, more horrifying than the hole Snape had woken in.

With a great grunt and a heave, Severus managed to roll what was left of Nagini off him and to the side. He groped for his wand, grateful that someone had remembered to bury it with him.

"That would have to have been Granger," he growled to himself. "Romantic, idiot of a know-it-all. One wonders why she knew to bury it with me. Even I thought I was dead, thanks to you."

His last remark was aimed towards the husk he'd divested himself of; he knew that would have been Weasley. The twit would have insisted on only digging one hole, lazy as he was known to be. He growled under his breath and groped for his wand.

"Lumos," he whispered. A faint glow emanated from the tip of his wand and he hissed in pain. "Blast, how long have I been down here, for Merlin's sake?"

Severus closed his eyes once again and began the laborious task of clearing the soil on top of him. Luckily, the twits hadn't a shroud to wrap around him and he could make slow, steady progress. He envisioned his personal gardens at Spinner's End, sending bit by bit of the detritus from above him there.

"Sometimes, it would pay to stay dead."

Hermione watched while Ron cast his Expandabox charm on his old school trunk and packed his things away inside it. Not that she thought he'd consider stealing from her, or that there would be a question as to who owned what. Not even that she wanted to fight with him, or make up.

Hermione stood there, coffee mug in hand, sipping regularly, because that's what her girlfriends always said they did. Mind, they typically fought or cried or showed some other emotion. But the gist was the same: watch him pack, watch him leave. She chewed the ends of her hair when the slight air kicked up by Ron's packing blew it towards her mouth but mostly she thought.

She thought about their first meeting. The daring rescue from the troll. Being petrified – literally. Fourth year and the disasters all year between her and Ron…that had actually started their third year. Fifth year and Ron's fling with Lavender Brown. Sixth year, Dumbledore's death – and Ron's arms the ones she found herself in. Seventh year – the end of the war, beginning of something she and Ron had thought would last forever. Between then and now…too much to recount.

"You don't have to pack it all now, you know," Hermione said quietly, more to her mug than to Ron.

"I'm not coming back, Hermione. I love you but its just not enough anymore," Ron said gruffly. He was staring determinedly anywhere but at her.

"I'm not asking you to come back, Ronald. I'm saying you can get your stuff at a later date, since I'm sure you're tired, or I can send it along, good Merlin," Hermione said hotly. She bristled at the implication. "Fine, if you want to leave so badly and so quickly, go ahead. I was trying to be civil and save you the exhaustion after a long day."

"Bloody hell, Hermione. I never took you for one to get so emotional . Like it hasn't been over for ages and ages now," Ron said irritably.

"I'm not getting emotional and its not about how long its been 'over', Ron! Christ, are you refusing to see why I'm annoyed or can't you see it?" Hermione slammed her mug down on her night-table.

"And well, there it is. I'm just too stupid, am I? There, its done and I'm leaving," Ron barely kept from shouting, hefting his trunk and apparating out just in time, as Hermione's mug was winging through the air at his head.

"Blasted, blind git!"

**AN: I know I haven't posted in ages, but please bear with me. This story just kinda came to me, so let's see where this takes us together, hmm?**

**As always, please, please, read and review.**

**Yours always, Kyo**


	2. Acta Non Verba, or Its Not What You Say

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just any OCs I throw in.

_This chapter dedicated to Azure83!_

**Obsidian**

**Chapter 2: Acta non Verba, or It's Not What You Say, It's What You Do**

Severus Snape was unequivocally, totally and definitely done with being stuck underground. He had begun contemplating eating Nagini's husk as a means of sustenance. Sheer will and an aversion to knowing if viper really did take like chicken kept his jaws firmly away from that…treat.

After a few days of steady, slow dirt moving, the air was starting to taste a bit less stale. On a break shifting soil, Severus carefully tore a strip of cloth from the collar of his undershirt, wrapping it close around his eyes to keep them safe from the light he knew he was approaching.

Severus contemplated talking aloud to himself to pass the time and chucked the idea as a bit too close to insanity for his comfort. Instead, he turned his thoughts inward. To important things.

Like changing his clothes. Bathing. Eating.

Where to go from his early grave.

The flat was aggravatingly quiet and clean with Ron gone. Hermione worked long hours and a variety of coworkers from the Department of Inter-Magickal Relations were falling all over themselves to keep Hermione's mind off her loss.

"No, really, I'll be fine. I need a good night's sleep now, is all," Hermione begged off the third office girl that day to declare Hermione needed a girls' night out.

"Ae you sure? I mean, it must be lonely without him there now," Mathilde Baggleprop stepped closer to Hermione, causing the brunette to back off a bit.

"Quite sure, Mathilde. Besides, I've got my books and hobbies to keep me busy," Hermione replied, grabbing her tote and turning to leave. "Ah, do remember to file those notes you borrowed this time. Last time I search for three days and had to enlist the help of two poor houseelves before I located what you'd used."

"Yes, yes, Hermione. I filed them last time, you just didn't look in the right place!" Mathilde called after her as Hermione left the office.

_If you put them where I'm not going to look, that's not filing, you twit,_ Hermione thought to herself, plastering a small, sociable smile on her face as she left the building that housed the Department of Inter-Magickal Relations. The Ministry of Magic had grown since the war and now encompassed not one but four large buildings. Hermione walked to the main building to check her inter-office post, found nothing of interest and popped into the nearest flue, arriving home in seconds.

"Well, well, Crooksy, looks like its just you and me tonight!" Hermione called out.

"Twenty-four and already a cat lady? For Merlin's sake, 'Mione!"

"Put some tea on next time you decide to break and enter, Ginny," Hermione groused from behind her bedroom door. Ginny and Harry had been waiting in her living room when Hermione popped into the flue. _How quickly this flat went from ours to mine._

Hermione changed quickly from her office robes into yoga pants and a soft sweater, twisting her hair back into a tail before heading into her kitchen, where Harry was putting water to boil in a kettle and Ginny stood, tapping her foot with her arms crossed.

"You know, you should have flue'd that you two were having problems. I could have set that git straight," Ginny fumed. Harry shrugged helplessly, obvious that he'd already listened to the tirade. "I mean, bloody, Hermione. You've been together for ages. You had your spats but you know, Harry and I got married, the idea was for you two do the same. When did that change?"

"Um, somewhere between meeting at school and…yesterday," Hermione said dryly, accepting a mug of tea from Harry and sitting at the table with a dull thud. "I don't know when it changed. I don't think these kinds of things change just once. A lot of things change. People change."

"It's been ages, though. I guess you just needed yet another break before finally settling down, right?" Ginny asked hopefully, sitting opposite Hermione and squeezing her hand in what would have been a sympathetic way. "What did that idiot brother of mine say? We'll get this lot fixed, won't we, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I am staying out of this one, love. I know better than to get involved in Hermione OR Ron's lovelife, I'm surely not going to get involved when it is their joint lovelife."

"That's it, though. It really isn't, not anymore. It's over," Hermione said, taking a long sip. "I mean, I watched him pack his things, told him he didn't have to take it all at once, he said he did, and when it was done, he left."

The three friends sat quietly, nursing their tea for a while. Harry held Ginny's hand loosely, his other hand on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione finished her tea and collected the mugs from her friends. Harry and Ginny gathered their cloaks about them and turned for the living room.

Before stepping into the flue, Ginny turned around and sighed, opening her arms for a hug. Hermione hugged her best friend tight before reaching for the flue powder.

"Hermione – well, you see, except for dropping his stuff off at the Burrow, no-one's seen Ron. Where was he going? What did he say?" Giny asked softly.

"My father always said it's not in what you say, it's in what you do," Hermione replied. "So I imagine he's at a pub, or with some other witch. I can't figure where else he'd be, he surely wasn't going to tell me."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Harry said, taking Ginny's hand and pulling her into the flue. Hermione waved, even though she knew they couldn't see her.

"Hm. Where are you, Ronald? And why are they asking me?"

After what Severus determined to be another three days of removing dirt, he finally broke the surface. As his luck would have it, which was quite unusual for him, it was dark out. A faint sliver of moon was the only light, and even that cause him to close his eyes tight against it.

With a grunt, Severus heaved himself out of the hole and lay next to it quietly, catching his breath from the effort. He transfigured a rock into a goblet and summoned up a clear, cool firewhiskey. He took a shot, then another, and another, till the fire in his throat was worse than that in his eyes.

With that distraction in place, Severus carefully removed his makeshift blindfold so he could get a bearing of his surroundings.

"Lucky, lucky me. I'm a full meter from where I 'died'. Now I know Weasley did most of the decision-making involving my burial," Severus groused. He righted himself, sitting on his bum on the cold earth. "Blasted…I don't even know how long I was down there. Or rememeber where there is. Well, first things first…safe house till I get my bearings."

Severus closed his eyes and thought of the last place he'd felt safe, many moons ago in a woman's arms, apparating with a soft breath.

_Godrick's Hollow._

**AN: There it is. Where's Ron? What am I doing with that idiotic plot bunny? What's Hermione's plan? Why the hell is Severus going to the home his lost love shared with her husband and infant son? Why the hell did it take me so long to start writing again?**

**Much love, please read and review. First review= chapter dedication!**

**Love, Kyo**


	3. Experto Credo, or Trust Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just any OCs I throw in.

_Dedicated toheartmom88_

**Obsidian**

**Chapter 3: Experto Credo, or Trust Me**

Harry Potter was of a mind to just leave his best friend, Ronald Weasley, to his own devices and destruction this particular time. But as fate would have it, he had married Ron's little sister…and Ginny wouldn't take no for an answer. Which meant in the dreary, chilled rain of an English fall, Harry was trudging around Ron's old haunts, looking for him.

Harry apparated here and there; Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, muggle London, anywhere he could think of Ron hiding out and nursing his wounds. He spoke to a few colleagues, more than a few drinking and quidditch buddies, and the odd old flame. Everyone said the same thing: Ron ha decided to end it, finally, with Hermione, he was happy about it, and he'd been pretty scarce since.

"Maggie, you said he'd been _pretty_ scarce. So you've seen him?" Harry asked a waitress at a quaint magical pub hidden away in a London alley.

"No, I 'aven't seen the bugger, but I know 'e's fine, " Maggie spat out; her Cockney accent almost more than Harry could understand. Harry raised a brow. "'E _owled_, you see. Said he needed some time to do something for 'imself. Don't ken that I know what _that_ is, but I know 'e's not just disappeared on ye."

"Well, what did his note say? Is Pig still here?" Harry asked cautiously. Maggie gave him the eye. "Stupid question that. If you get another owl, please, let me know so we don't keep worrying And if you reply, please tell him his family is missing him, and we'd like an owl ourselves."

Maggie shrugged and went back to wiping glasses. Harry sighed and nursed his ale. He had to keep looking for Ron, because Ginny wanted him back, Molly wanted him back, and Ron had a life that he could not just leave.

"Not like that stopped him," Harry replied to his thoughts aloud before finishing his drink in silence.

It was going to be a long few weeks while Ron cooled off wherever he was.

One of the very few things Severus Snape could thank his father for was the set of rather unique skills the abusive bastard had forced him to learn. Hiding, lying, stealing, the art of disguise and the odd scuffle had made Severus quite sturdy from a very young age, and they were not skills he could even hope to forget.

Once he arrived at Godrick's Hollow, Snape allowed himself to sleep on the dilapadated old couch. It was full of dust and it was obvious no-one had been there in a while, but he knew that Potter came there at least twice a year to clean it up, even if he couldn't bring himself to live in his parents old home. The couch was less than comfortable, and elicited images of Lilly and James Potter. Lilly, Severus enjoyed remembering. James had been his nemesis. Even in death, he had the woman of Severus's dreams, buried not only next to one another, but hastily and in the same grave.

When he was a boy, one of the few things his mother, Eileen Prince Snape, had shared with Severus, was the gift of stories. Ghost stories, faerie tales, histories…anything Eileen could remember or sneak from the nearest muggle library. Tobias Snape didn't hold much stock in the "foppish foolery" Eileen had instilled in her only child.

As he settled back into the couch, Severus growled at the dark. His mother's voice haunted him as he drifted off, leading his dreams.

"_A house, especially one as this, my boy…it remembers. Houses are the least likely to forget, so make sure neve to wish ill of the owners, present or past…"_ Eileen's voice was eery in the crevices of Severus's psyche, and he wondered what the hell she meant.

Hermione woke late Saturday morning, slightly sick to her stomach. She passed it off as having a bit too rich a dinner last night, fresh fish, pungently spiced rice and a decadent pudding from the corner sweetshop had seemed like just the cure for her new loneliness. Instead, she had a food hangover and her mouth felt and tasted like Ron and Harry's quidditch socks.

Hermione made herself a strong mug of coffee the muggle way and grabbe some dry toast before heading into the small room that had served as a study for her and Ron. Now, she could spread out, a desk, an exta bookcase and even a small potions setup made the tiny room seem…

"Even stuffier than when I had to share with Ronald," Hermione groaned. She made a half-hearted attempt to tidy up but gave up when an official-looking owl showed up at her window, tapping impatiently. "Alright, alright. I'm coming."

Hermione grabbed an owl treat before opening the window. The sturdy little owl hopped in, depositing the scroll on Hermione's desk before returning to the ledge, waiting for his treat. She dropped it into his open beak, careful of the quick snap. A gulp and the owl was already back out the window.

"Guess I needn't reply," Hermione mused. She grabbed the parchment and let it unroll from her fingertips.

_To one Hermione Granger-_

_In response to your letter for the application for the requisition of a combination experimental charms and potion license._

_The Ministry of Magic, while encouraging the proper use, implementation and experimentation of new or different magic, does not condone any of those actions for the sheer acts. As you have not provided a valid reason – or any reason at all – for your continued studies and trials, we, at the Ministry, must decline your application._

_In other words, please cease and desist your trials. Please prepare to process and hand over any and all notations, results and failures upon your next working day._

_Have a nice weekend_

_Mercedes Addelbraun_

Hermione tore the paper up and scowled after the owl, which had smartly gotten far far away fom the now angry witch.

"Decline my application? Fine. Tell me I didn't give valid reasoning? Fine. Take my bloody work from me? Blast you, Mercedes Addle-brained," Hermione fumed. She gathered her work and materials together, dumping them into her expandable bag.

Hermione stomped into the living room, threw some flue powder into the glowing fireplace and shoved her head into Harry and Ginny's hearth.

"I'm taking some leave from work to do some…work. I'm going to need a place where I can lay low but get whatever supplies I'm going to need," Hermione said, startling her friends awake.

"Alriight…" Harry said groggily. "Why're you flueing us about it? Could've just owled when you got wherever you're going."

"Harry, she's not telling us she's going…she needs a place," Ginny nudged him. Harry blinked, then nodded as he understood.

"My parents' old place meets those criteria, 'Mione."

"Great. Um, I'll clean up a bit while I'm there, and leave some roses for them," Hermione said gratefully. Harry waved her off. "I mean it, Harry. I'll do it this time. Stay with Ginny through the holidays. I think I'll be there."

Harry blinke, but nodded again. "Trust me, I can do that. Oh, and Hermione?"

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, Harry?"

"I haven't found Ron, but I found someone who's heard from him. He's fine, just still buggered. If we hear from him, do you want us to pass anything along?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Anything I have to say, or to hear from him, should be done face to face, and privately. Besides, it wouldn't do to drag you guys into our troubles."

Harry smiled weakly and Ginny pointedly looked at her boyfriend, then her best friend. Hermione grinned and popped back out of the hearth. Harry and Ginny flopped back into bed, dozing off as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Hermione coaxed Crookshanks into her bag last, with a mixture of catnip and salmon bits. She secured her things, locked her flat up tight and laid more than a few charms before killing the flame in the fireplace and closing her eyes to apparate.

_Godrick's Hollow._

**So there you have it, another chapter down. What IS Hermione studying? And why does the Ministry want to keep her from figuring it out? And just what will happen when the two houseguests, invited and not, collide?**

**Read, review. Review= dedication….**

**~LadyKyo**


	4. Video Sed Non Credo, I See It But

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just any OCs I throw in.

_Dedicated to Burnedx2._

_Also, sadly, I've decided to disable unsigned reviews. If you have something negative to say, I'd prefer a PM or a signed review which I can delete if needed. Unfortunately, that bit of common sense doesn't occur to some people, and I do apologize to my readers who liked to leave constructive unsigned reviews._

**Chapter 4: Video Sed Non Credo, or I'm Seeing But I Can Not Believe**

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Morning sun peeked through the aged sheers, waking Severus Snape far before he would have liked. He flicked his wand and the thin fabric gave a twitch, suddenly making the lighting situation a bit more forgiving on Severus's eyes. Nevertheless, the light had started to wake Severus and he reached up to rub at his eyes groggily, only to be deterred by the cloth still wrapped around his eyes. He tugged at it a bit.

Searing pain met his efforts and Severus decided his 'death' and incarceration underground had truly not been a mere dream. He tore a bit more cloth from his undershirt and wound layer upon layer around his head and over his eyes, grimacing at the necessity of it. What good was a nearly blind Potions Master?

"Hell, what good is a 'dead' Potions Master?" Severus asked the empty room. He groped around for the arm of the couch he'd slept on and hauled himself into an upright position. There were no provisions in the house, he had no coin on his person, which, sadly, he couldn't blame Weasley for – he hadn't exactly expected to be spending gads after the great battle and ergo had left his coin where it would still work: in his vault at Gringott's, still earning interest, he hoped.

But getting his money out would mean going all the way to the vaults, verifying his identity and dealing with the aftermath of not being dead. As surreptitious as the goblins could be, they could only be responsible for secrecy once he was on the way to his monies. It wouldn't do to be recognized by some would-be biographer, or more likely, Rita Skeeter, on his way.

Severus closed his eyes against his dilemma and a slow smile crept across his face. He was, for all intent and purposes, blind till his eyes readjusted; he was unwashed and unkempt, and his clothing had already seen better days before he'd been buried. Inspiration had struck. He remembered hearing of the muggles his father swindled, by pretending to be a war veteran on hard times. Surely witches and wizards had to have the same soft spots for heroes of their own war.

Severus forced himself to his feet and pulled out his wand. A few moments and his hair was no longer sheer black, but a salt and pepper affair, cut ragged over his shoulders; his black frock coat and pants became even more ill-fitting denims and long robes, the hems tattered; his blindfold stayed the same, and he conjured a tall, spindly staff, tucking his wand into the top for safekeeping. Without a wand, he would evoke even more sympathy, at least enough to keep his belly full long enough for his body to start to come back to itself.

Satisfied with his disguise, Severus concentrated and apparated himself a kilometer or so outside the small village, affecting a limp and perfecting it on the trudge into town.

It was time to go to work.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Hermione appeared just outside the small village, her expandable bag under her arm. She saw a beggar and her heart softened for him. He looked to be blind, judging from the rags he used to hide his sightless eyes from the world. Hermione had seen what muggles would do to blind veterans and beggars, and she could only hope that wizards and witches at the very least, didn't do anything worse to their own.

The beggar's gait was proud and Hermione left herself a mental note to stop by the local tavern and make sure the barkeep knew to feed that man a large meal as he needed it while she was in town; she wasn't the richest witch in town, but she could help keep a hero fed.

Hermione waited till the beggar was even with her before dropping him an awkward curtsy and a murmured thank you. He jumped nearly out of his skin at the honors and Hermione immediately felt embarrassed; she knew how much she, Harry and Ron hated being recognized while out.

"Sorry, sir. Just wanted to thank a fellow veteran. Sorry. Erm, feel free to grab a bite at the tavern, on me, while I'm in town. Whenever you need it; I'll be here for a while," Hermione said hastily. She turned her back and hurried into the tavern before he could protest.

Hermione dropped her bag on a stool and hopped onto the next one, waving the barkeep over.

"Hi there. I'd like a butterbeer and a roast beef sandwich, warm if you've got it, but cold is fine," Hermione requested, pulling her coat off and dropping it on her bag. The young wizard slid a mug down the bar and Hermione caught it and took a deep swig. "Mmmm."

Hermione sipped quietly for a few minutes, grabbing a discarded _Daily Prophet_ off the bar and scanning it. The headlines were nothing of interest, though she noted with a scowl that Rita Skeeter was still on staff.

"Now the old bug is claiming we didn't properly bury the war dead? What's next, we made them into a private zombie army and are just waiting to take over the Ministry? Ballocks and ashes," Hermione cursed. The barkeep coughed and she looked up, her head nearly colliding with the tray of food.

"Not a Skeeter fan, eh?" the wizard chuckled and Hermione rolled her eyes. "No worries, mate, not many here are. Don't forget, we are the birthplace of the Boy Who Lived. A grown man now, but I do believe you already know that."

Hermione groaned and he shook his head.

"I was stating a fact, lovey. Not looking for an autograph from the brains of the operation. You can call me Sean, most everyone here does. My family owns this tavern, but I'm probably the only one you'll see here. Hermione, right? Fom the old Shakespeare play," Sean the barkeep was chatty and well-informed, but Hermione felt oddly at ease.

"Ah, yes. And thank you. It's a time that was necessary but not really my favorite bit. Thank you," Hermione said, taking the tray from him. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment then remembered herself. "Ah, and there's a beggar outside, I believe him to be a veteran of our war with Voldemort…I'll be in town for a while, and please, any time he comes in, feed him and put it on my tab, will you?"

Sean nodded thoughtfully. "I surely will, ma'am. Though – is he a friend of yours? That's an awful gamble to make, you never know if he'll just drink your coin away."

"It's 'miss', not 'ma'am', and yes, I'm sure. I just have a feeling about this. If it comes to that, I'll be staying down at the old Potter place. Owl me – actually, I'll probably be back in plenty of times to eat and pass some time. But you needn't worry yourself over that," Hermione said, tacking on hastily, "but thank you for your concern. Most people would just take advantage of a young witch."

"A young witch, perhaps. But not THE Hermione Granger. Miss," Sean tipped a non-existent hat to Hermione before heading off to greet some new customers.

The roast beef was good, the bread better and the homemade chips the best. Hermione polished her meal off and gave a shiver. She turned slowly, peering out the slightly smudgy window. The beggar was across the street, looking like he was begging, but staring intently into the tavern…directly at her. Hermione gave herself a shake.

"He's blind, Hermione. He's not staring. He's incapable of staring," Hermione whispered to herself, gathering her things and pulling her coat on. She dropped coins on the table, enough to pay for her meal, a bit to make sure Sean would feed the vet, and a nice tip, she figured. She left the tavern and headed for the Potter house, only looking back once. Where the vet's eyes would have been seemed to follow her.

Hermione unlocked the house with a key Harry'd given her long ago and locked the door securely behind her. Up the stairs and down the hall she found a large, mostly empty room, save for a dresser and a bed, and she called it hers – for the foreseeable future, that was.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

Severus simply could not believe his luck. A pretty young woman to pay for his meals? Splendid. If he wanted to eat in a place where in due time someone would have to wonder who he really was. At least that meant that what money and supplies he begged for could be put aside for use till he was ready to truly be Severus Snape again.

But that pretty young woman being Hermione Granger, the annoying, truthfully unnattractive child who'd been a thorn in his side for six years at Hogwart's? He'd carefully made his blindfolds just slightly translucent so he could watch her without anyone knowing, just so he could make sure. Glossy, brownish-reddish-goldish hair that was just a bit wild now? Check. An immediate grasp at knowledge? He saw her grab the latest paper, check. A complete lack of self-awareness and safety as she seemed to miss that she was being watched? Check.

"Well, well, well," Severus muttered uner his breath, watching her go into his safe house. He had to go back there to sleep; he'd probably just duck into Lily's old den in the basement while Granger was there. So long as he was out of the cold and weather, he coul handle being in the basement; at least there the dirt was packed. He watched the door shut and he noticed she didn't put up any charms or hexes; she must feel safe.

"I see it, but I can hardly believe my eyes."

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**And there you have it…not what you thought it was going to be, thought it was going to be her apparating in on him, huh? Hahah, gotcha!**

**Please, read, review…I wanna know what you think of Severus the veteran and beggar, and the idea of 'war heroes' in Harry Potter!**

**Love, Lady_kyo**


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